


Beginning

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bromance, Other, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 02:32:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek start to bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> For a drabble challenge I'm doing. I got a bit carried away, I must admit.

Stiles had dipped into his father's stores of whiskey and he and Scott had taken to the woods, Lydia and Allison, and unfortunately for them, the alpha pack, completely forgotten. Stiles blundered through the forest, stumbling, catching himself on nearby trees (or allowing himself to be caught by Scott) before hitting the ground, giggling at himself and sometimes at absolutely nothing at all. At a small clearing, Scott decided it would be the perfect time to wolf-out and go for a quick run to get some alone time and Stiles, who didn't mind in the least, watched his friend stare balefully at the waxing crescent in the sky and nodded lazily in agreement.

“G'head, bro.” Stiles waved him off nonchalantly as he staggered toward a sturdy looking pine. “I'll be over here, _marking my territory_.”

He chuckled at the stupidity of his own joke as he unzipped his jeans, and before he could relieve himself, Scott was gone, flitting through the trees on all fours. Stiles sighed in contentment as he drained his bladder, all the worries he had seemingly going, too.

It was always nice to feel this far gone, like there was not a damned thing he need worry over. Nothing to stress him and bring him to the brink of another panic attack. Like he could laugh and cry and dance around and no one would blame him for anything he did because nothing else mattered but his most immediate needs. Id had control of him now. It was a good feeling, completely freeing and lovely, but just like everything in Stiles' life, nothing nice lasted long.

He heard the first howl and chuckled at the thought that Scott was going around the forest, furry-faced and pining emphatically. He was thinking about how funny Scott would look at this moment, whining over Allison like the little puppy he was, when he heard the returning howls and shivered. Scott couldn't do that by himself and he doubted that Isaac or Boyd or any of the other wolves he knew would have responded to the call of his lovelorn best friend. The feeling weighing in his gut that sent warning impulses through his entire body told him that this was different. This was _bad_.

And he was right, of course. Stiles usually is when it comes to hunches like that. And how fitting. At a time where he just wanted to relax and be a normal teenage boy for once, some fucked up shit, like being surrounded by an alpha pack, _would_ happen to him. And honestly, he should have learned from the last time he got drunk in the woods. Nothing good could happen. Hell, nothing good ever happened to Stiles. Stiles Stilinski just wasn't meant to find any peace. Not in life, and now he was going to die. He was going to be torn limb from limb by a pack of irritable alphas. He was going to be scattered across the woods and his dad was going to find him that way, and _god_ , the thought of that made a burning guilt bubble up in his chest.

But there was always a chance. Stiles had made it this far, even gotten to his seventeenth birthday practically unscathed (minus the cut on his eye which totally counts as a battle scar even if he actually may have gotten by slipping in a freshly mopped kitchen), so maybe they'd spare him. Or turn him. He didn't want to be a wolf, per se. By his account, Beacon Hills had enough of them already and he doubted anyone would want him, anyway. Who needs a clumsy, hyperactive, hormonal teenager in their pack? No one. They'd probably kill him. That was more likely.

“Why the fuck don't I think of this shit before I'm in immanent danger?” he whined to himself.

“I've been wondering about that for a while now.” Derek said, casually leaning against a broad tree as he glared over at Stiles who nearly jumped out of his skin at the unexpected response.

“Shit, Derek!” Stiles gasped, clutching his chest. “Please tell me those other wolves I heard were you and Isaac or some-”

Derek cut him off. “You have to get out of here.”

“But Scott-”

“Scott can get away on his own.” Derek said, perking up at something Stiles couldn't hear. “You have to go. Now.”

Stiles looked around him and everything began to spin. He took several rushed steps toward Derek, stumbled over a jutting root, and fell on his hands and knees. His head was swimming and the world was swirling beneath his feet. He was far too drunk and scared to be able to make a smooth getaway.

“How wasted are you?” Derek scowled and lifted the teen roughly by his forearm.

“I- I don't know.” Stiles stammered and wiped his hand off on his jeans, hands stinging from the tiny cuts on his palms.

“Great.” Derek rolled his eyes and pulled Stiles after him, through the trees, moving as quickly as possible with Stiles as a burden. “I'm getting sick of saving your ass, Stiles.”

“Hey, I save your ass all the time!” Stiles argued as he was hauled along the forest, nausea rolling over him as he was jostled about.

“Shh!” Derek hissed at him and stopped abruptly. There was a rustling nearby and he lifted Stiles up onto his back.

“Hey! What- Ah!” Stiles screamed when he saw them. At least four sets of glowing, red eyes not far off in the distance. He tightened his grip on Derek's shoulders and shut his eyes. “Dude, faster!”

Derek ignored Stiles whines as best he could and made it out to the road, dropping Stiles and quickly unlocking the doors of his Camaro.

“Get in.” he ordered and Stiles scrambled up from from the ground to fling open the passenger's side door and tumble inside.

Derek took off just before the pack emerged from the treeline and sped off after the dark car.

“They're chasing us, dude! Go faster!” Stiles cried as he looked out the window.

Derek remained quiet as he shifted gears and floored the gas pedal. _As if he didn't know they needed to drive faster._

“We have to find Scott! He's probably looking for me.” Stiles said in a panic.

“Scott's fine.” Derek said flatly, taking a sharp turn in attempt to shake the large wolves stampeding behind him. Several of them headed back into the forest, but there were still a couple who wouldn't quit.

“What do you mean he's fine?!” Stiles shouted. “He's gonna try to play hero and he's going to go back to where I was and get himself killed!”

“Scott's probably already home.” Derek sighed. “I found him before I got to you and told him to leave.”

“He just left me?!” Stiles cried in disbelief. “That-”

“I told him to.” Derek said.

“Huh?” Stiles frowned, confused.

“He wouldn't have been able to get you out in time, so I promised I'd take care of you.”

“Oh.” Stiles wasn't sure if it was the alcohol in his system, but hearing those words made him feel suddenly warm. “Well, it looks like we're good now, so can you stop driving like a psycho and take me back to my house?”

“I'm not driving like a psycho.” Derek mumbled.

“The wolves disappeared like five minutes ago, dude.”

“They're following from the trees.” Derek said plainly. “We might have to drive around all night until we lose them.”

“Great.” Stiles huffed and leaned back into his seat. “I get to spend the entire night with _you_.”

Derek curled his lip at the teen. “So getting eviscerated is better? I can make that happen if you still-”

“No, no.” Stiles shook his head and chuckled lightly. “Driving is cool.”

“Alright then.” Derek nodded and the drove in silence for all of about thirty seconds before Stiles started fidgeting.

“So, can we listen to music or something? This is-”

“No.” Derek said and continued to drive, slowing down a bit now that there the wolves seemed to be losing interest and dissipating.

“Well, I can't just sit here, dude. That's boring.” Stiles whined.

“You should have thought about that before you nearly got yourself killed.” Derek sniped.

Stiles chuckled, thinking about how pathetic his life could be. “Maybe you should have just left me.” he mused aloud, speech slurred and sleepy now that the adrenaline had worn off and the alcohol was lulling him into a stupor.

Derek furrowed his brow and regarded the boy next to him. Stiles was nuzzling into his own shoulder in an attempt to get comfortable, eyes shut, lips slightly parted. _That kid never shuts his mouth._ The elder watched him with concern. He'd never been able to get drunk before, but he had seen what it could do to you. How it made you lose inhibition and spill more truths than you'd dare if you were sober.

“What do you mean I should have left you?” he asked. “You think you could take them on your own?”

Stiles chuckled again. “No way.” he murmured.

“S-So you're saying you want to die?” Derek asked quietly, but he didn't get an answer.

Stiles merely smiled tiredly, opening his eyes just a bit to look up at Derek. The older man could see the beginnings of tears welling up in them. “I'm gonna take a nap, that cool?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah.” Derek nodded. “That's fine.”

Derek watched Stiles sleep as he drove through the back roads of Beacon Hills. He knew that Stiles had to be under stress. He was just a human, after all, and he had to deal with the burden of the supernatural world, but he saw a sadness in him that he never realized was there. A new kind of vulnerability that made him want to protect the kid.

He pulled up to the Stilinski house at nearly two in the morning and shook Stiles awake. The boy protested wholeheartedly and Derek had to drag him out of the car.

“Be quiet.” he hissed at Stiles who'd begun moaning sleepily about fucking wolves and how he was totally higher than Scott on the hero scale. “If your dad sees us out here, he'll probably try to shoot me.”

“It wouldn't kill you.” Stiles pointed out as he finally straightened and allowed himself to be guided to his front door.

“It still hurts.” Derek rolled his eyes and steadied the boy against the wall, pinning his shoulders to the vinyl siding and grimacing. “Stand straight, so I can leave.”

Stiles giggled a bit and leaned forward. “I can't go in there.” he whispered in Derek's ear.

The elder flinched a bit at the feeling of Stiles' hot breath tickling his ear. “Why not?”

“Dad'll kill me.” Stiles said. “I'm wasted and I'm supposed to be at Scott's- Scott!” We gotta make sure he's okay!” He attempted to push past Derek, but the elder held him firmly.

“He's fine.” Derek said, pulling Stiles' phone from the inside pocket of his leather jacket. “He texted you while you were asleep.”

“You took that from my pocket?” Stiles asked, taking the phone and reading over Scott's message.

“Yeah.” Derek shrugged. “It kept making this annoying buzzing sound, so I had to.”

“Dude, that's super molest-y.” Stiles stated, flushing at the thought of Derek putting his hand in his jeans.

“I didn't-” Derek made to argue, but gritted his teeth instead. “Go inside, Stiles.”

“No.” he protested with a pout. “I can't. I'll be tarred and feathered if I go in there.”

“I'm not taking you to Scott's.” Derek said firmly.

“So take me to wherever you're going.” Stiles said.

“No.” Derek shook his head. “Go. In. Side.”

“Derek.” Stiles whined quietly, widening his already large, brown eyes. “Please?”

“Get in the car.” was Derek's resigned grunt.

“Dude, you're awesome.” Stiles beamed at him and headed back toward the Camaro, Derek following close behind to make sure he didn't make too much noise and alert the sheriff.

Stiles didn't fall asleep on the ride this time. He talked about the alpha pack and curly fries doused in nacho cheese and the complexities of the relationship between Batman and Robin until Derek couldn't take any more.

“Stiles.” he grit out through bared teeth. “One more word before we get to my place and I rip your throat out.”

Stiles paused for a moment before adding, “With your teeth?”

“Yes, with my-” Derek began, but shot him a harsh glare when he realized he'd broken the rule.

“Sorry.” Stiles mouthed, shrugging before he sat up as straight as he could and folded his hands gently in his lap, adamant on remaining silent.

That lasted about four minutes. Derek timed him. “So where are you staying these days anyway?”

The older man sighed heavily and gave him a pointed stare en lieu of a response.

“What?” Stiles shrugged rounded his eyes innocently. “I can't ask where we're going?”

“Peter and I-”

“Wait, you're living with your psycho uncle?” Stiles cut him off.

Derek grit his teeth and ignored the question. That psycho was the closest thing he had to a family, a pack. He didn't trust him, but he needed him. Stiles wouldn't be able to understand.

“We've been staying at a motel just outside of town. Different rooms.” he explained. “It's better than what I had before, but it's not permanent.”

“Cool.” Stiles nodded. He remained quiet for the rest of the ride, thinking over Derek's situation, wondering why he still stuck around the crazed werewolf who killed his sister and rose from the dead. It was obviously a personal matter and Stiles, who lacked a lot of things, wasn't totally devoid of tact, so he left it alone.

_Alone._ That's what Derek was. Alone. And even though Stiles hated the guy for a while, he was starting to feel where he was coming from. Stiles had felt alone for a long time. After his mother passed away, his dad still kept up long hours as the a cop. It wasn't his fault. It's not like he had much choice. There were bills to pay and Stiles seemed fine on his own. He had Scott and Melissa, but Scott went off to live with his dad for a while and even when he was around, he felt lonely. Things were better for him now, but they only seemed top be getting worse for Derek.

He glanced over at the elder and watched him drive in silence, studying his face. The hard set of his jaw. He looked tense. Tired. He wasn't much older than Stiles, but he looked it. He looked so worn down. Stiles wondered how much longer he could take the strain, if he was already cracking.

He was shaken out of his thoughts when the car rolled to a gentle stop and Derek cut the engine. He led Stiles to his motel room, pulling the key card from his wallet and stepping into the room first to flick on the light and guide the drunken teen into the room. Stiles thanked him quietly and asked if there were spare blankets. Derek checked the tiny closet and found one, tossing it to Stiles and leaning over to hand him a pillow from the bed before he declared that he was going to the bathroom.

“So...floor?” Stiles asked as Derek was making his way to the small door on the opposite side of the room.

Derek simply looked at him, a deadpanned expression in his tired eyes.

“Right. Floor.” Stiles nodded and settled himself beside the bed.

It was hard and uncomfortable, but he'd slept in worse places. It didn't take Stiles long to fall asleep, considering the hour, the chase, and the amount of liquor he'd consumed. Derek came back from the bathroom and found the kid sprawled all over the floor. He rolled his eyes at the gangly limbs spread out all over, and stepped around him to get to the light switch and then flop himself onto the lumpy mattress. He settles into the center of the bed and shut his eyes, willing stress he was feeling at his temples to go away. It wasn't a physical pain, he knew. He didn't really get headaches. This was just a psychological manifestation of his shit life and he could mack it go away. He just had to concentrate. But he couldn't. A certain teenage boy happened to be a sleep-talker.

He sucked his teeth loudly and turned to glare at the kid on the ground. Stiles shifted his own body at that moment, continuing to mumble something completely unintelligible until-

“S'not your fault, you know. You can't control everything, Derek.”

It was like a punch in the chest. He furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to say something. What did Stiles know anyway? But then he realized that the kid was really asleep when he laughed a bit, mumbling about how Scott would be a bad alpha, too.”

“Too?” Derek grumbled aloud. He knew he was a bad alpha, but he didn't need to hear it, from a slumbering teen or otherwise. He watched Stiles with narrowed eyes. Maybe that kid wasn't so bad. He came in handy for quite a number of things. He wasn't perfect by any means, but Derek felt something stirring in him while he watched Stiles' lips twitch upward in a sleepy smile, having finally shut up for a moment. If there was anyone around who Derek could trust, it'd probably be Stiles. Scott, too, but he seemed more reluctant. Stiles had helped him in the past because he was afraid of the alpha, but he'd begun to lose that fear some time ago and he was still willing to help, sacrificing his fragile human body to combat the alpha pack with the resources he had.

Stiles turned over again with a heavy sigh and scratched his ass. Derek was soon shaking with chuckles. _Oh, the wisdom and grace that emanated from his very core._

“Wha- S'goin' on?” Stiles sat up at the sound of the creaky motel mattress groaning under Derek's laughter.

Derek did his best to calm himself before grunting a quick “Nothing, go to sleep.”

“'Kay. Cool.” Stiles mumbled and obeyed rather willingly.

“Brat.” Derek rolled his eyes fondly and shifted back to the center of the mattress, focusing on the steady beat of Stiles' heart as he drifted off, headache finally gone.


End file.
